The Clamps

In a post-Apocalyptic London exists a Workhouse for all of those who have nowhere else to go, where services are exchanged for shelter. There’s nowhere safer: even the beds have their own special form of security. Ask the children. They have a story to tell.

It was the kind of story that kept you pinned down in terror and the younger children believed in full fear, while the older boasted of their bravado and pretended they had no fear at all.

The beds strewn with blood and tell-tale yellow...